About me

I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Screams in the Night

Disturbed nights are a common occurrence in this household, for I suffer bouts of insomnia. Unintentionally thanks to me, my dear husband’s sleep is therefore also disrupted. Parkinson’s has a lot to answer for, but sometimes, even I have to place the blame elsewhere.

Finding it hard to turn over in bed, to swallow even my own saliva, trying to block out the constant nagging pain, being awoken two or three times a night by cold and hot sweats, frequent nightly bathroom visits, along with the insomnia that makes one repeatedly glance at the clock as the hours drag by; is it any wonder that I hate the nights? With all this going on, who on earth can sleep?

The other night, I slid out of bed as quiet as I could, hoping not to wake up my sleeping husband, and miraculously managed to get to the bathroom without making a noise. Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly spied a cockroach scuttling along the far wall. Without a second thought I smacked my slipper down, and assumed it was dead, as it lay on its back, legs in the air frozen. However, it must have been merely stunned, for as I picked the cockroach up by one of its legs, wanting to dispose of it, I found it was still very much alive. It began to struggle for all it was worth in-between my fingers. Without thinking, my natural instinct took over and forgetting momentarily, I screamed as I dropped the ugly uninvited guest down the toilet, quickly flushing it out of sight.

Convinced my scream was enough to wake the dead, I was astonished to climb back into bed and hear the steady deep even breathing of my husband as he lay motionless. In the morning, I asked if he’d heard me scream in the middle of the night, to which he replied, “No, did you have a nightmare?” Flabbergasted I said “Isn’t finding a cockroach always a nightmare?”

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